What Albus really saw in the Mirror of Erised
by Tartan Queen
Summary: Albus didn't really tell the truth when he told Harry what he saw in the Mirror of Erised. Please read to find out what he really saw! Please review, too.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I could rave on forever.

"What do you see when you look into the Mirror, Professor?" Harry Potter asked.

"I? I see my—myself holding a pair of thick woolen socks," Albus replied, smiling slightly. "One can never have too many pairs of socks. And now I must ask you to never come looking for the Mirror again. Try to keep yourself occupied, do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes, sir. Goodnight."

Albus watched Harry leave the room and only then did he turn to the mirror. After a while, two other people appeared side by side with him: Minerva McGonagall and…Harry Potter.

Albus approached the mirror slowly, fixing his gaze first on Minerva's trembling smile and then switching his eyes to Harry's face. The wide, emerald eyes of both of them shone softly at Albus. Choking back tears, he touched the smooth glass and almost could feel Minerva's velvet-textured skin. Harry in the mirror moved closer to Albus and placed his hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, Albus felt a real hand…an unbelievably gentle hand touch his shoulder.

Minerva came closer to Albus and rested her cheek against his shoulder. They stood side-by-side, looking into the mirror—and into Harry's face.

"You tell everyone else to stay away from the mirror, Albus…and yet you do not heed your own advice."

"I…can't stop myself. I'm sorry."

"Oh, my darling, don't apologize. I know what you see in the mirror…because I see just what you do. You see Harry with us as a family, don't you?"

Albus nodded, tears dripping off his crooked nose. Minerva turned to look at him and gently wiped his tears from his face. Placing a tender kiss on his lips, she leaned back to gaze into his eyes. Her deep green eyes probed his in much the same way as Harry's eyes penetrated Albus' during their meetings.

"Albus, it wouldn't be wise to tell Harry the truth—the _real _truth. If V—Voldemort truly knew who his parents were, he would…oh, I don't even want to know. Please, Albus. We need to protect Harry…he's our son."

Albus heaved a sigh and slowly embraced Minerva. The Harry Potter in the mirror looked back at Albus and Minerva and his eyes slowly filled with tears. A silver mist gradually enveloped his slight figure until the mirror completely erased all traces.

A/N: Erm, so what do you think? Please R&R, you make my day!


	2. Chapter 2

Minerva gently placed her arm around his waist, and he his arm around her shoulders, as they made their silent way back to his rooms. Once they reached Albus' office, Minerva swept forward to brew Albus some comforting hot chocolate. She smoothly passed a steaming mug to him, but Albus merely set his cup down and motioned for her to sit beside him. Minerva lightly kneeled at his side, running a thumb over his knuckles. She leveled her chin on his knees, staring unblinkingly at Albus. He felt a wrench in his heart as he stared into her beautiful eyes…Harry's eyes. Minerva looked at him now with a heartbreaking sadness, and it almost was as if Harry was looking at him again…that day they had to give him up to James and Lily Potter for the Potters to raise as their own son. Albus gently touched her eyelids shut with his lips and slowly rested his cheek against her raven colored hair.

Together, Albus and Minerva shared their pain as the memories of their secret son flooded through.

_The year was 1980…Albus was visiting Minerva at St. Mungo's after Healer Methywick finished cleaning the blood off her. Minerva smiled gently when she saw Albus approach, bearing a small bouquet of summer primroses. He leaned over her and kissed her lightly on her lips. She clutched his hand and guided it to the soft, white, downy blanket that covered the face of their newborn son. She unfolded the blanket to reveal an angelic, sleeping face. Albus grinned widely at her, stroking her pale skin. Their baby had Minerva's raven black hair, long eyelashes, and even her rosebud mouth. Albus was immensely glad that, once he saw his son open his eyes, the baby even had Minerva's beautiful emerald eyes. Bright and inquisitive, a clever wizard in the making, Healer Methywick had proclaimed._

"_What a blessing that our son doesn't look like me," Albus whispered to Minerva, kissing her again once the Healer had left the three alone._

"_Albus, I wouldn't say that. He has your nose…and it is so lovely to see it on his face, unbroken and perfectly straight." Minerva said, tracing a long, slender finger down the length of Albus' crooked bridge. "We need to name him, though. I…what do you think is a good name for him?"_

"_Something that starts with M…for my magnanimous, magnificent…Minerva." Albus gave her a gentle squeeze. "How about Michael, Minerva? Noble and courageous. He does look like a Michael, doesn't he?"_

"_Michael…" Minerva said slowly, lilting the name over her lips. "Michael, my love. My darling angel. Michael Dumbledore. It's perfect, Al." _

_And together, they lay back in the sunlit room, their love blooming as radiantly as the primroses Albus had set in the vase._

_4 years later: The July morning dawned bright and warm; the sun was already golden in the rooms of Albus' and Minerva's summer cottage. A delightful, childish giggle sounded from behind the door, and Minerva opened it to reveal her son, Michael, grinning impishly at her, and looking irresistibly like Albus. Minerva swooped down and scooped him into her arms, twirling him around into her room and falling on her bed. Both of them burst into tinkling peals of laughter._

"_Mummy, you're thilly!" Michael lisped, his eyelashes sweeping down his plump, rosy cheeks. Minerva hugged him close to her, planting a warm kiss on his rosebud lips._

"_Happy Birthday, my darling. You're getting so big already. I can't believe it! Where's my baby gone?"_

"_I'm alwayth gonna be here, Mummy. I'm stayin' here with you." Michael tapped the golden locket containing a lock of his hair against her heart. He smiled in pure sweetness, gazing at her with his large, green eyes…so like her eyes._

_Minerva laughed and rested her head against his. Albus had meanwhile Apparated into the living room and ascended the stairs into Minerva's room. He heard his son's bubbly giggles rising with Minerva's tinkling laughter. Dreading what he was about to tell Minerva, Albus hesitated before opening the door to their bedroom. _

_Upon hearing the door click, Michael wriggled out of Minerva's arms and ran unsteadily to Albus. Albus smiled widely, a smile that did not reach his eyes, and opened his arms, catching his son easily. He kept his eyes on Minerva's face. Using unspoken Legilimency, he implored Minerva to see him alone. Minerva had beamed when she saw him, but a slight frown of worry now creased her forehead._

"_Daddy, Daddy, you're here! Do you have a surprise for me? I'm four yearth old today!" Michael reminded Albus that it was indeed his birthday. Albus swallowed quietly and gently nudged his nose against Michael's._

"_Here, Mikes. I got your favorite…lemon drops. Now go eat them…not the entire bag! I have to talk to Mum, all right?"_

_Michael grabbed the candy and bolted out the door. Albus heaved a sigh and straightened up. Flicking his wand to lock the door and place a Silencing Charm on it, he joined Minerva, where she sat, looking worried._

"_I've only just heard: Voldemort's risen, Minerva. He's after Michael. Says he's going to end up killing him…"_

_Minerva's face whitened but she allowed Albus to finish. Her eyes had filled with tears._

"_So what we've got to do is hide Michael. Give him away for another family to raise…modify his appearance and his memory. James Potter has agreed to do this for me…a large favor, I know, but…it's for the best."_

"_Al…Albus! My baby…He can't do this! I won't let it happen, I won't…I won't…" Minerva broke down, sobs racking her body. Albus took her into his arms, softly hushing her, stroking her hair._

_A long time passed. Finally, Minerva released Albus and regained her composure._

"_We…we need to do it today, Albus?"_

"_Yes." Albus replied, his voice breaking._

_A while later, Michael passed outside his parents' door, pausing when he heard Minerva crying quietly. Softly, he pushed open the door and peeked around. Albus was nowhere to be seen, only Minerva lay on the bed, her tears spreading a dark splotch on the coverlet. Climbing up on his parents' bed and scooting closer to his mother, Michael gently stroked her hair. Minerva started, thinking Albus had returned. But wait, the hand was smaller, gentler, a child's hand._

"_Don't cry, Mummy, pwease. I thought you were tho happy earlier. It sthares me when you cry."_

"_Oh…Michael, my darling. Angel, Mummy's all right. Just had a shock. Oh, come here."_

_Minerva sat up and rocked Michael gently. It was his birthday. The last birthday that he would share with her and Albus. Before he became the Potters' son._

_Minerva didn't know what happened next; she only realized that she was speaking to her son again as though he was an adult. Brokenly, she told Michael the whole truth…until abruptly she stopped. Michael had been quiet the whole time, clinging onto Minerva, his cheek pressed against her heart. Now he looked at her again, his four year old mind seemingly eons older than himself. Perhaps it was because he was her's and Albus' son. _

_His bright green eyes pierced hers; he looked remarkably like Albus then. _

_Minerva shakily drew her wand and pointed it at her son. Taking a deep, calming breath, she focused her eyes on his eyes, the latter of which was now wide and trusting. _

"_Michael…my dearest. I'm so, so sorry that this must happen. Forgive me. Always…remember…that…I love you. Forever."_

"_Muvver…I…love you. I love you I love you…"_

_Her mouth opened, but she did not hear her words. A blinding flash of white light, Michael's blazing green eyes, his child-voice echoing in her head…were the last things Minerva saw before tears rendered her vision opaque. _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm so sorry for not thanking all my lovely reviewers last time. You all are so special to me! 3

As that memory faded, Minerva broke the concentration and sank to her knees, her delicate body convulsing with silent sobs. She brought out from underneath her robes a gold locket, still in pristine condition, its sheen glinting brightly. Clutching the heart-shaped locket tightly in her fist, she brought it to her lips and felt Albus gently unfasten it from her neck. The gilded golden chain fell from around her neck, the cold metal brushing her skin; it was a severed link now. He kneeled behind her, rocking her against him. She quieted gradually, head tilted in the hollow of his neck, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Each pulse of his heart brought back memories of Michael's adorable, lisping voice: "_Mummy, I lub you… Mummy lubs Daddy just the same…My daddy's name is Albuth…mummy calls him Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore when she's angwy with him…only once, though…my Mummy's name starts just like mine…Merva… Merva and Mikes…" _

"Sweetheart, I think it might be a good idea to not wear that locket for a while…"

"No! Albus, I can't do that. You know what else is in that locket?"

Albus shook his head mutely. Minerva wrenched herself away and charmed open the locket. Folded neatly inside were hundreds of tiny pieces of parchment. Minerva shook them out and picked a few at random. Clenching them in her fist, she looked up at Albus, her eyes blazed, she dropped each as she read them.

"Happy birthday to you, my darling boy, Michael Theo Dumbledore, you're five years old today. I hope you fill the day with laughter…your laughter."

"Happy birthday to you, my darling boy, Michael Theo Dumbledore, you're six years old today. It's been two years now. I know you don't remember me, but I remember you."

"H—happy b—b—birthday, Mikes, you're always in my thoughts…"

"I cannot tell you that I love you, Michael, not to your face, because I am only a Professor…to you…"

Minerva's voice broke, and with it broke Albus' heart. He crossed over to her, stroking her hair gently.

"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. I hurt you, please forgive me," Albus pleaded with her, his blue eyes slightly bloodshot.

"So now you see that I cannot ever part with that locket. It always holds a special place in my heart. Our boy lives with us here." Minerva tapped her heart and then Albus', softening her eyes and hugging him tightly.

The two of them remained in that position for a long time; each unwilling to let the other go. At last, Minerva gently separated herself from Albus and wiped her eyes. Straightening up to go back to her own rooms, she paused at the doorway.

"Goodnight, Al. I shall see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Minerva, love. Always remember that I love you. I'll be here for you."

Minerva nodded and gave a small, sad smile. As she turned his doorknob, he saw her square her thin shoulders, and his heart ached for her.

As she disappeared into the graying darkness, Albus whispered once more:

"I'll be here for you, Minerva. I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: First off, I'd just like to say that you, my readers, are utterly fantastic. Thank you for sticking with me so far! A note for this chapter: I've fiddled around with Minerva's and Albus' and…er, Harry's ages. Sorry if I left anyone in confusion!

Morning dawned early; Minerva was already awake by the time the castle's clocks struck five. She paced the width of her quarters, her immaculate emerald robes swishing against her figure. Her entrance portrait of the goddess of wisdom, rolled its eyes and let out a very un-goddess like snort. Minerva ignored it as thoughts ran wildly in her mind.

Should I tell Harry? No. Yes! Definitely not. WHY NOT? Of course, I should. No, I shouldn't! I really…

"Shouldn't what, Minerva?" Albus noiselessly came up from behind her and pulled her body to his. He lightly brushed his lips against hers as greeting.

"Albus, you gave me a fright. Why didn't I hear you…?"

Albus laughed softly; she was back to her normal, brisk self, she no longer displayed the heart-wrenching grief and pain that appeared last night.

"No doubt you were, erm, very deep in thought." Then Albus became more serious. "Minerva, are you…feeling better?"

Minerva looked up sharply at him; her eyes flickered slightly from the memory of last night, and gave a brittle smile. Albus looked slightly worried…his forehead creased.

"I've decided to tell Harry, Al…"

"But—"

"…the truth. After all, he deserves to know." Minerva spoke smoothly over Albus. Her eyes had achieved a steely, hawk-like glitter, and for a moment, Albus quailed under her gaze. "I'm going to tell him how we utterly changed him, his age, his memory, and how we changed ourselves, our ages, so that nobody would suspect that he was in any relation to us."

"Why did you change your mind, darling? How are you going to begin?"

"Eleven long years, Al. I…I want our son to know…to know…how much I've missed seeing him over…the…years." Minerva's voice broke just as it had last night. Now Albus realized the hard glitter in her eyes was due to unshed tears. He nodded and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes upon his touch and sighed. She was determined.

Minerva's following Transfiguration classes passed in a haze for her. Finally, her last class of the day arrived: a group of first year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Minerva sat up a little straighter and quickly scanned the crowd for her son's face. There he was: in between Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. His bright green eyes crinkled at the corners, he laughed at something Mr. Weasley had said. Minerva's keen cat-like sense of hearing picked up on the melodious arpeggio. Her own eyes crinkled much the same way as Harry's, and she smiled one of her rare smiles. Her boy's giggle still sounded like how it was the last time she had heard it. Finally, everyone was seated and she slipped her radiant smile off her face, adopting a strict expression, although a hint of her happiness still pervaded.

"Good afternoon, class. Today we will be transfiguring pincushions into…doves."

She fought down a chuckle as she heard Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom moan in disbelief.

"The incantation is: 'Vera livia'. Wand movement: sweep and flick. Carry on."

The rest of the period was a time for Minerva to watch her students battle the newest, and most difficult, Transfiguration spell yet. To her surprise and delight, Harry Potter managed to half-way transform his pincushion into a decent-looking dove. The only slight disfigurement was that the dove looked rather plump…and rotund. She swept over to his desk and surveyed his result. He looked up at her hesitantly, his bottle-green eyes anxious, until she gave him an uncharacteristically gentle smile and patted his shoulder approvingly.

By the end of class, only Miss Granger was able to fully transform her pincushion into a pure white, graceful dove. Awarding Gryffindor house 20 points, (quite out of character for Minerva, too) she dismissed the class. Then, she quickly spoke up.

"Mr. Potter, a word, if I may?"

She watched as her son told his friends to go on, and approach her desk cautiously. Minerva swallowed slightly and mustered up her courage to tell him…finally.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?"

"Sit down, please, Mi—Harry." Minerva caught herself before she could continue. Harry looked at her quizzically, but took a seat opposite her. He folded his hands together in a very Albus-like manner and smiled tentatively. Minerva's heart melted at the sight of his sweet smile; she beamed back at him.

"Harry, I'd first like to compliment your extraordinary accomplishment today. I'd say that you've really improved your transfiguration skills."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry replied politely. He remained slightly puzzled.

"I…Harry, I asked you to stay behind today because I have something very important to tell you. I…would you mind telling me what Mr. Ollivander told you the day you visited his wand shop for the first time?"

Her son's forehead creased slightly at her odd request. Nevertheless, he complied.

"Mr. Ollivander told me…well, I asked him what he meant when he kept repeating the word "curious"."

Yes, Minerva thought, Ollivander knew their secret. And Harry would soon know, too.

"He never really answered me. He…scared me somehow."

"In what way, Harry?" Minerva spoke in a gentle voice.

"His eyes…" Harry trailed off, but soon resumed. "Then he helped me choose a wand. I must have tried hundreds, I was getting worried. But he told me not to worry, that we'd find a wand eventually. He even said that my dad was excellent at transfiguration…and that mum was great at charms and potions."

Minerva smiled to herself and mentally corrected Harry. She was the one good at transfiguration, and Albus was just a shade better at Charms.

"Well, that is true. Your father was brilliant at transfiguration, and your mother was a true potioneer. But…oh, Harry, how can I tell you? They…aren't your real parents. I know this may sound odd, but…"

"Er, Professor? What do you mean?"

Minerva took a deep breath. She silently prayed for strength.

"Harry, listen to me. Hear my whole story. I am your real mother."

"W—what?" His shocked eyes probed into hers. Green into green, they stared at each other for a moment before Minerva dropped her eyes. She continued in a murmur.

"Please…look, I know this sounds strange, but it's true. And sometimes the truth is not what you expect."

Minerva stood up and faced Harry. Waving her wand, she transformed from a sprightly seventy-year old witch into a thirty year old woman. Her resemblance to Harry was striking, then.

"Harry, your birth year is 1980. That hasn't changed. Albus and I named you Michael Theo. You spent four years with us, but then Voldemort decided to come and kill you. To protect you, Albus and I cast a Blood Protection charm on you, binding my blood to yours. The charm made you one year old again, and transported you back to the year 1981. However, it added fifty years to both my and Albus' ages. That was so no one would suspect, especially in the wizarding world, that you were our son. Albus asked James Potter, your…adoptive father…to legally adopt you. I…gave you a time turner so you couldn't come back…I…Harry…Michael…I can't tell you….how much I've regretted losing you."

Minerva collapsed on her desk, all composure gone. Tears tracked down her pale cheeks, her emerald green eyes glassy with tears. Harry did not know what to say. For the first time he could remember, his prim and proper Transfiguration…no, his mother, was crying, actually crying, with shoulders shuddering with sobs and voice making a sound like a wounded animal. He tentatively reached out and stroked Minerva's rumpled hair.

"Don't cry…Mum. Please. Be strong. I do believe you."

Minerva's heart contracted with painful memories as she remembered the last time he had done almost exactly the same thing for her. So long ago…yet it seemed like only yesterday…

"Harry, I'm so sorry that we've kept this from you."

"Call me Michael, Pro—Mum. I want to hear that. I want to hear you say it."

"M…Michael, my darling. Oh, my dearest." Minerva cradled her son's face in her slender hands, greedily looking into his face, taking in his bright green eyes and slightly crooked nose. He smiled now, and Minerva instantly recognized Albus' impish grin. Pressing a slender finger to his lips, she drew him into a true embrace at last. Michael, her son, had returned to her after all these lonely years.


	5. Chapter 5

Finally, Minerva gently squeezed Michael's shoulders and let him go. Both of their cheeks were wet; neither knew who had first started shedding tears. Minerva stroked her son's cheek lightly with her long fingers and smiled tremblingly at him.

"Michael, darling, you'd better go. Don't keep your friends waiting."

Michael hesitated. He certainly was pleasantly surprised to learn of his true family, and his newfound happiness in being with his mother was indescribable.

"Oh…but, can't I stay with you, Mum? It's just that…I've missed having a mother so much. Nobody's ever hugged me like that," Michael confessed quietly, with fresh tears leaking from his eyes again.

It took all of Minerva's willpower not to cry again. Thinning her lips into a tight smile, she shook her head. Wiping his tears away and placing a swift kiss on his forehead, she gave him a little push. After all, students were right outside her classroom…and nobody knew their secret except for select few.

"Go, darling. I will see you at dinner. Then we'll see Albus, okay, sweetheart?"

"We'll see Dad." Michael corrected, smiling in wonder.

"Dad." Minerva agreed, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Michael walked quickly down to the Great Hall, hardly aware of the curious stares that he was being given. His mind whirled from what his mother had just told him. As each of his steps echoed on the stone floors, he heard her voice calling his name: _Michael Theo Dumbledore…Harry Potter…Michael…Harry…_

"Harry?" Hermione and Ron came up to him, both looking worried and tense. They had just come back from the common room and were immensely relieved to see Harry walk towards them. Michael gave them a small smile and fell into step with them, continuing on to the Great Hall.

"What did McGonagall want, Harry?" Ron asked, a little apprehensively. Ron was even more amazed to see a glowing smile curve Michael's lips. "A—are you feeling alright, mate?"

"Of course, Ron. Mum—Professor McGonagall just told me the most wonderful thing. Says I…really improved my transfigurations." Michael had nearly called her "Mum" again…surprising how easy it was to accept her story and call her his mother. Ron still looked unconvinced, but any doubts he might have had on Michael's sanity were quickly quelled by the enticing view of sumptuous food from the Great Hall. Making a beeline for the nearest platter of pork chops, Ron sped into Gryffindor table with Hermione in his wake, she disbelievingly questioning him how he could manage to eat so much.

Michael took his time getting to his seat; he scanned the staff's table and saw his mother sitting next to Professor Dumbledore…his real father. Giving a small smile and quick wave, Michael acknowledged Minerva's gentle smile and Albus' nearly imperceptible wink.

Up at the staff table, Minerva resumed her conversation with Albus, her eyes a bit brighter now.

"I've told him, Albus," Minerva said quietly, conscious that Professor Quirrel was only two seats away from her. "He was so sweet…and so brave. He wants to see you very badly…I told him we would be together after dinner, just the three of us."

"I'm so proud of you, Minerva. He does look more and more like you with each passing day. Especially his eyes." Albus gave her a sidelong smile, secretly squeezed her hand under the long wooden table and returned back to his specially ordered chocolate gateau with lemon drops on top. Over at the Gryffindor table, Minerva's keen eyes easily identified her son's raven black hair and pale skin. Her boy was also tucking into a small bowl of lemon drops. Smiling slightly, Minerva shook her head and applied herself to her favorite dessert: Ginger Newts.

Meanwhile, Michael was anxious for dinner to end. Quite apart from watching Ron shovel in apple pie, raspberry strudel, and chocolate gateau with indecent enthusiasm, Michael really wanted to talk to Albus. More than once, Michael thought he saw Hermione's eyes follow his to the staff table, but she did not say anything. At last, dinner ended with a great scraping of chairs as everyone filed out to their dormitories.

Hastily swinging his bag over his shoulder, Harry called back to his friends that he needed to go to the library to check out some books. Once they cleared out, Harry redoubled his steps and made his solitary way back to the Great Hall, where Albus and Minerva stood, waiting for him. Running the last few steps, Michael threw himself into Albus' arms, burying his face into Albus' starry robes and feeling contented by the faint aroma of sherbet lemons emanating from Albus. Minerva swallowed and moved closer to her husband and son. She stroked Michael's black hair and kissed the top of his head.

It was the perfect moment…only to be ruined by Argus, the caretaker. Grunting from dragging the Mirror of Erised all the way from the third floor corridor to the Great Hall, Argus literally dropped the Mirror in shock as he saw the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmistress, and that Potter boy enveloped in each other's arms. Gaping like a fish, Argus hastily licked his dry lips and shuffled away as quietly as he could. However, the Mirror had caused a great racket and thus Argus stood shamefaced, facing the three people, wearing his mothball-infested coat. Albus' eyes twinkled merrily, Minerva's lips thinned as her eyes flashed dangerously, and Michael grinned, looking up at his parents.

"I-I-I'll just…be going, then. Good day, Headmaster, ma'am, Potter."

The blissful three people listened to Filch's rapidly receding footsteps and Albus and Minerva broke into gentle laughter. Their eyes locked on each other's for a brief moment; their love for each other was clearly evident. Then, they looked toward the Mirror and saw, to their surprise and delight, just the three of them, standing the way that they were.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in writing this chapter. To make up for it, I'm posting an extra long chapter this time. Please take the time to review; it's really encouraging for me. A HUGE thank you to Yue Sai, my inspiration for this chapter and to all my readers and reviewers!

Later that evening, Michael staggered out from under Madam Pince's hawk-like glare, barely able to see from over the mountain of textbooks that he carried in his arms. He dragged his feet to the Common Room, thinking miserably of the essay that was due for Snape on Thursday. As he climbed the seventh dizzying staircase, he heard a slight noise in front of him. Struggling to see who it was, Michael lost his balance and the books clattered to the stone floor with a clang. It was Professor Quirrel.

"Potter, what are you doing here? Curfew's already past!"

"I'm sorry, Professor, please, I had to go to the library to check out…some books." Michael gestured hopelessly to the books strewn across the floor. His green eyes widened slightly as Quirrel leaned down dangerously close to him, wearing an uncharacteristically harsh scowl on his face.

"Be warned, Potter. Any more nighttime wanderings and the consequences will be…severe."

Michael nodded and slowly got to his feet. Gathering his books in his arms again, he set off, wondering vaguely why Quirrel had changed so abruptly since this morning.

Reaching the Portrait Hole at last, Michael had just opened his mouth to give the password to the snoozing Fat Lady when he heard Minerva call out his name quietly.

"Michael, dearest? Can I have a word?"

She saw his shoulders tense briefly before he turned to her with a hesitant, but beaming, smile. Setting his books at the foot of the Fat Lady, Michael walked quickly into Minerva's open arms. He loved her unconditionally already, just as her son. Perhaps his feelings were all innate, even after all this time. She gave him a bright, rare smile as she enveloped him in her gentle arms.

"Anytime, Michael…if you need help, you know I'll be here for you. I know I can't ever make up eleven years of my absence, but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. Goodnight, sleep well, my angel."

Minerva quickly released him and almost turned to leave. However, on the spur of the moment, she drew out from underneath her robes her precious golden locket. Pressing it into Michael's palm, she whispered in his ear how to open it. Michael's eyes widened uncertainly, but he accepted her gift, slipping the golden chain around his neck. She rose to her feet and smiled once more at her son.

Neither she nor Michael noticed that Quirrel was watching the entire time, eavesdropping on their endearing exchange, twirling his wand between his fingers, smiling evilly.

Disclaimer: I've borrowed some scenes from the original JK Rowling book, but, big surprise, none of the dialogue belongs to me, in any way, shape, or form. Now I got that out of the way, do enjoy the rest of the story.

Back in his dormitory, Michael sat by the window, hearing his mother's last words of instruction to him. Grateful for the blessed sleepy silence from his fellow roommates, Michael brought out her locket. Pointing his wand at the golden clasp, he murmured the incantation and the double doors swung open. Michael gave a tiny gasp of surprise when he saw hundreds of neatly folded parchment inside. Pushing his round glasses up his slightly crooked nose, he picked out one at random.

Each note was addressed to him, written in emerald ink and by his mother's hand. In some of them the ink had run, indicating that Minerva had splashed a tear when she was writing down her thoughts. Past birthday wishes, each day's events…Michael's heart clenched in pain as he reread the handwriting that was so painfully familiar to him.

Finally the last note in there:

"Forgive me, Michael. Not a day passes that I don't regret what I've done to you. I love you. Mum.

Michael carried the locket and the note to his four-poster bed. He lay down with the locket safely stashed away and the note clutched in his hand. A tiny tear ran down his temple as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Minerva was up at Albus' office, sitting across from him at his desk. Her head was bowed and Albus was looking over her seriously. She had finished telling him of how she had passed the locket on to Michael, and now a deadly silence reigned in the office. Only the soft, snoring sounds of portraits of the past headmasters and headmistresses pervaded the gloomy room.

"Minerva, look at me, love." Minerva raised her head slowly. "What you did is absolutely commendable. He does deserve to know. Give him time, he will come to you. And meanwhile…"

Albus swept to his feet and passed a cup of strong Earl Gray tea to Minerva.

"I shall make arrangements with Michael's adoptive aunt and uncle and let them know that they will no longer need to be troubled with him. A likely relief, I'm sure, for all concerned."

Minerva beamed now, and took a sip of tea. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, allowing the steam from the tea to rise over her eyes.

"Thank you, Albus."

Quirrel was having a conversation with his master. They seemed to be arguing. Pacing in his study, Quirrel pleaded with Lord Voldemort.

"Please, Master. I am so close to retrieving the stone. If only I knew how to get it out from the Mirror…"

"Idiot servant! Your worthless mind is useless for my use. What have I told you on countless occasions is my main motive for sharing such a weak body such as yours?

Quirrel sobbed quietly. "The P-potter boy, Master."

"Precisely," Voldemort hissed in displeasure. "Now, tomorrow evening, I want you to lure Potter through the trapdoor. Do whatever it takes; I don't care how you do it, just do it. If his friends come with him, kill them. I will personally deal with Potter.

Quirrel calmed down slightly. His bloodshot eyes surveyed himself in the mirror. He spoke in a quiet voice now.

"Master, there is something I need to tell you. I just heard McGonagall talking with Potter. She called him Michael…something endearing…"

Voldemort snarled with anger.

"Minerva is much less clever than I thought she was, then," Voldemort said, his eyes flashing scarlet. "She's a fool when it comes to love. Love, just like her Muggle-loving Albus Dumbledore."

"But she spoke to Potter as if he was…her son." Quirrel objected.

"Really?" Voldemort breathed, now excited. It was too easy, much too easy. "Tell me exactly…_exactly _what she said to him."

And Quirrel complied.

The next morning, Michael woke, and it took him a while to clear his mind of last night's whirlwind events. He turned his head on his pillow and saw the small piece of parchment still curled in his hand. He grinned drowsily and began to get dressed. He began humming a familiar lullaby with a light heart. It would be a great day. Looking over his schedule, he noticed he had Defense Against the Dark Arts right after breakfast. Quickly, he went down to breakfast, where Ron was already scarfing down kippers and eggs, and Hermione was burying herself in the newest of her borrowed library books.

After breakfast, Michael and Ron went down to the Defense classroom, where a strong smell of reeking garlic greeted their nostrils. Ron's face turned slightly green as he quickly doubled back to relieve his discomfort. Michael shook his head slightly and entered alone. Professor Quirrel was sitting at his desk; he looked up upon Michael's entrance.

Nodding slightly, Professor Quirrel looked at Michael with a blank look of dismissal on his face. Clearly, last night was still on his mind. Michael stared back boldly at his professor as he took his seat. As the lesson progressed, Michael's attention wandered. He was going to see Hagrid and tell him about the events of the past week.

As soon as the bell rang, Michael, Ron, and Hermione hurried out to the grounds to Hagrid's hut. The booming barks of Fang greeted them. Outside, they could hear Hagrid cursing as he attempted to shove Fang out of the way and let Michael and his friends in.

"Hello Harry, Ron, Hermione. Got summat to tell yeh. Remember Fluffy, the dog I told yeh about?"

"Hagrid, I really…" Michael started, not sure how to proceed. But it didn't matter. Ron and Hermione had both helped themselves to Hagrid's rock cakes, and Hagrid was enthusiastically detailing his last visit to Hog's Head.

"And then, if yeh'll believe it, the young chap just offers me the solution to the problem! All yeh've got to do is play music and then…wait a mo'. I shouldn't have told you…"

Michael's eyes were glinting oddly. He remembered the night that Snape was carrying an enchanted harp on the third floor guarding Fluffy's entrance.

"H-Harry? Yeh all right, mate?"

"I have to go, Hagrid. Transfiguration is in ten minutes. I'll see you around."

Michael walked mechanically back to the castle. It was Snape who was trying to get the stone. Snape tried to worm the truth from Hagrid. That was why Professor…no, Michael's father, Albus, wanted to get rid of the Mirror of Erised as soon as possible.

Forgetting all about Transfiguration, Michael walked to the third floor corridor and pulled out his wand. Stopping only briefly because Hermione and Ron had come up running to him, he faced them. Any words that they might have wanted to say to him were quickly dispelled. Michael's green eyes were sparking like Floo flames.

"Snape's the one behind this all. I'm going to stop him. Whatever it takes."

"Harry, you can't be serious," Ron started.

"Harry, class is only in five minutes. Think of all the points we'll lose if we're late!"

"Don't you both get it? Losing points don't matter anymore! If Snape gets the stone, he'll recruit Voldemort. And Voldemort (at that, both Ron and Hermione winced) will kill you all."

"Harry, you're right. Sorry. We're going with you."

"Okay…what? No. No no no no!"

"Don't be stupid, Harry. That's what friends are for." Hermione stated briskly, waving her wand and pushing both boys inside. Ron gulped at the sight of Fluffy's mad, rolling eyes. Michael stooped and picked up the harp. His sense of elapsed time sharpened when he saw that the beastly dog was already asleep.

"Let's go," he whispered. And together, they descended the trapdoor.

Meanwhile, Minerva McGonagall was growing frantic. Three of her favorite students had just vanished without a word. She had already inquired their fellow Gryffindors on whether Michael, Ron, and Hermione had been seen this morning, and all the answers had been in the affirmative. Having no choice, she had to begin her lesson.

Michael and his friends had just passed the Devil's Snare and were nearing the end of the giant, Transfigured chess match. Hermione screamed as Ron was knocked unconscious by the white chess queen, and nearly ran to his side.

Michael bellowed at Hermione to stay still.

"Remember, Hermione! We're still playing." Michael walked up to the looming white king. His sweater (which Minerva had given to him) was torn, the cut in his skin bleeding slightly.

"CHECKMATE." Michael said clearly. A cloud of dust rose as the king surrendered his sword. Only then did Michael and Hermione run to Ron's side. Ron had a bruise on his forehead, and a cut that was bleeding profusely. Michael looked to the next chamber ahead of them. Someone was there…

"Hermione, listen. Take Ron back to the hospital wing. Send a message to…Da—Dumbledore. I have to go."

Hermione looked at Michael with her eyes brimming with tears. She reached over and hugged him tightly. Michael patted her awkwardly on the head; in all honesty, he was a little overwhelmed by her actions.

"Harry…be careful."

"I will."

With that, Michael walked through the scarlet flames and became face-to-face with…

Professor Quirrel.

He gasped. Professor Quirrel, here?

"Professor Quirrel. It's you?"

"Yes, Potter, it is I." Even his voice sounded different; it was colder, sharper. He gave an unpleasant laugh at the sight of Michael's disbelieving face. "Thought it was Severus, didn't you? After all, who _would_ suspect p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel next to such a toerag like Snape?"

Michael noticed the Mirror in front of Quirrel. All he could do was keep talking and divert Quirrel's attention to the Mirror. The problem was, he couldn't move his numb lips to form words.

"Now…how does this Mirror work? I see the stone…I am presenting it to my master…but how do I get it?"

"Use the boy…" a voice seemed to hiss from the back of Quirrel's head. Michael looked wildly behind him but saw no one.

"Yes. Potter. Come here." Quirrel yanked Michael's sweater, tearing it further, and clapped his hands so that ropes bound Michael's hands and feet. Michael stared into the Mirror and blinked hard, trying not to call for help to Minerva and Albus in the Mirror. That would give it away. And then…inexplicably, Michael felt the stone thump against his pocket. _He had the stone._

"Well?" Quirrel asked impatiently. "I haven't all day. Out with it, Potter. Now."

Michael searched his mind wildly. Something…a lie…anything.

"I'm shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore. I've…won the Quidditch cup."

Quirrel swore loudly, shoving Michael out of the way. Michael started edging back toward the fire, but the voice at the back of Quirrel's head snarled out again.

"LIES! The boy lies…"

"Potter! Tell the truth! WHAT DO YOU SEE?"

"Let me speak to him…face to face…" The voice hissed out. Quirrel slowly unbound his turban. As the layers fell down to reveal what was underneath, Michael's scream of horror died in his throat.

It was Voldemort.

Voldemort glared at Michael with his scarlet, slitted eyes. Michael stumbled backwards and almost made a run for it. Quirrel snapped his fingers and the flames reared up, forming a deadly viper.

"KILL HIM. Only the worthy deserves to live."

Quirrel lurched forward, strangling Michael around his throat. Michael choked, struggling to breathe. However, Quirrel's grip was loosening. Michael stepped back to see his own hand burned raw and Quirrel's flesh crumbling before his eyes. Quirrel's eyes flickered with pain.

"KILL HIM! YOU FOOL, KILL…"

"Master…my hands! I cannot…"

Michael instinctively grabbed Quirrel's face with his hands. Through the blinding pain, Michael could hear Quirrel screaming, Voldemort screeching out orders, and, someone screaming out his name…before everything went black.

Back at the castle, Minerva and Albus raced to the third floor corridor. A few straggling students looked on in confusion, seeing their Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress whipping out their wands as they hurtled through the crowd. As soon as Minerva fell through the trapdoor, she felt a blinding pain in her heart; she knew her angel was in trouble. The Blood Protection Charm linked her son's blood to her own; thus, whenever he felt pain, she felt the double of it.

Albus and Minerva reached the chamber where the Mirror of Erised was located. Minerva's sharp eyes took in Quirrel's crumbling body, the flames and ashes that remained, and finally…her precious baby's body buried under the rubble. Choking back a sob, she beat Albus to Michael's side, picking him up and cradling his head to her heart.

Albus waved his wand and a stretcher appeared. Levitating Michael on it, he gently pulled Minerva away and sent the stretcher directly to the hospital wing. Sending his Patronus to Poppy Pomfrey, he enclosed a brief message that "Harry Potter" was in need of immediate care.

A week passed in a haze for both Albus and Minerva. Both were unable to concentrate on their duties. Minerva visited with Michael every night, holding his hand when everyone else had left. Albus accompanied her on these visits, because it would seem strange if Professor McGonagall was seen always by the side of Harry Potter. Finally, on Friday, Michael woke blearily.

The first thing Michael saw was his mother's bright green eyes, previously shadowed by fatigue, but brightened the instant she saw his eyes blink up at her. Then, turning a heavy head, Michael noticed his father's half-moon spectacles twinkling at him. Michael raised a hand to Minerva's cheek, but his exhaustion made the gesture flop back down on the bed. Minerva's eyes filled with tears. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her son's forehead.

"Mum?" Michael croaked, stroking her hair. "I'm sorry…"

"Shhh, hush, sweetheart. You must rest now."

"Dad…please…I tried."

"We know, Michael. We're…so proud of you." Albus blinked rather rapidly, and moved closer, cupping his son's hand in his.

"Professor Quirrel…how could it have been him?"

Minerva blinked back tears, her mouth hardening into a thin line. That worthless man deserved to die…after almost killing her angel.

"He's gone, darling. The stone's safe. I…we're so afraid that we lost you…"

Michael sighed. "Don't…cry…Mum, please. I'm glad…he's gone…Stay with me, please?"

Minerva nodded, pressing her lips to his forehead. Michael's face relaxed into a smile as he drifted off to sleep again.

She straightened up and leaned into Albus' comforting embrace. It was midnight. No one was there, except the three of them.


	7. Going home for summer

A week later, Michael and his fellow Gryffindors boarded the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross, London. Michael had packed his trunk, but still couldn't believe that he was never returning to the Dursleys'. Albus had given him instructions to not say a word to anyone about where he was really going to spend the summer. Albus and Minerva were going to meet Michael at King's Cross Station where they would, as three, confront the Dursleys and separate forever from those Muggles.

Michael had spent the entire time listening to Albus and not believing what was happening. Gone were the days of endless torment from his cousin, Dudley. Gone were the days of his aunt Petunia screeching like a banshee for him to get up. Albus had finished telling him of the miracle, and Michael had wordlessly looked to his mother. She was smiling at him, tears sparkling in her green eyes.

The trip on the train seemed to take a surprisingly short time. Finding an empty compartment, Michael, Ron, and Hermione settled in and fell to talking. Soon, the food trolley rolled by and Michael bought the three of them an ample amount of sweets. Ron tore off the wrapping of the Chocolate Frog and mumbled his thanks to Michael with his cheeks bulging out. Hermione sniffed disapprovingly as she graciously thanked Michael and delicately opened a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

A while later, Hermione left the compartment and Ron fell into a deep slumber, having exhausted his energies from devouring most of the sweets. Michael made sure the compartment was silent (except for Ron's snores) and slowly brought out his mother's locket. The gold heart-shaped locket was now vacated of his mother's little notes. Michael had stored those carefully in his photo album. Following the last page showing Lily and James Potter holding him as a baby, Michael had used a Permanent Sticking Charm to affix Minerva's letters to him. Michael whispered the incantation and the locket's doors swung open. However, contrary to what Michael thought, there was still something inside: a tiny, moving picture with Minerva holding Michael and Albus hugging Minerva from behind. Michael quickly wiped his eyes with the hem of his sleeve and shut the golden doors once more.

An hour later, the gleaming, scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express chugged to a halt on Platform 9 ¾. Wizards and witches alike swarmed out, owls hooted, cats hissed, and Michael distinctly heard the hoarse croak of Neville Longbottom's toad, Trevor, as it escaped.

When Michael, Ron, and Hermione stepped on to the platform, there were still several gaping people staring at Michael.

"_Look, _Mummy! It's Harry Potter!"

"See ya, Potter! Have a great summer!"

"'Bye, Harry!"

Michael gave a single wave to each of the acknowledgements and turned back to Ron and Hermione. Pulling out a piece of parchment, Michael quickly scribbled down twice the address for Albus and Minerva's summer cottage in Essex. Tearing the parchment in half, he handed one each to Ron and Hermione.

"Keep in touch. This is where I'll be staying for the summers from now. Write to me, I'll want to tell you everything."

"We will, Harry," Hermione promised, giving him a quick hug.

"Hope you'll be able to come stay at my place, Harry," Ron said, clapping him on the back. Michael thought of all the letters he would write to them, explaining the whole, complicated thing.

Michael nodded and smiled. He watched as Dr. and Mrs. Granger enveloped Hermione in a crushing embrace, watched as Mrs. Weasley admonished Ron for not responding to her letters, and waved to Ron's little sister, causing her to turn beet red.

Michael was the last person to remain at the station. He wasn't worried; he knew Albus and Minerva would be with him soon. Sure enough, he caught a distinct scent of his mother's chocolate and honey and a merest whiff of Albus' trademark sherbet lemons. Turning, he beamed widely and took a running start into both Albus and Minerva's arms.

"Ahem. We've come to escort you home, boy, and haven't got all day."

Michael released himself gently from his mother and turned to face the puce colored Uncle Vernon. He smiled brightly and looked expectantly at Albus. Albus smiled pleasantly and handed a letter to Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon eyed Albus, sizing him up, (and noting the downright wizardish-ness about him) but decided not to comment. Opening the letter, Vernon's small eyes whizzed over the parchment and his vein started to pulse.

"What the BLOODY HELL do you mean, 'Harry will stay with you'…and this…this woman (meaning Minerva) from now on?"

Minerva's eyes flashed dangerously as she drew to her fullest height. Had Vernon been wiser, he would have shut his mouth then and there, but, being overtly indignant about _their lot_ wasting his precious time, he hardly spared Minerva a scathing glance. Aunt Petunia, however, seemed ready to faint. She attempted to shield her Diddykins from the madwoman, but to no avail. As Vernon ended his rant and pushed Michael unceremoniously into the luggage cart, Minerva was seething. Her son had just been roughly brushed aside as though he amounted to no more than a disgusting slug.

Albus remained impassive. Calmly informing Vernon of the lie that he had made, he told the shorter, more plum-complexioned man that due to the wizarding regulations, Harry would not be staying with his "Muggle relations" as it would bring danger to the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon eyed Albus beadily.

"All right, fine. He can bloody stay there forever. Now, if you'll excuse us…" Vernon led his family away, blowing his mustache hither and thither. Aunt Petunia took one last horrified look at Albus and Minerva (whose eyes were snapping flames) and followed her husband.

"Albus, let…me…go…I don't have the underage wizarding tosh strapped to me. Now, I say. If you know what's good for you. I can still get them…"

Michael laughed and Albus shook his head. Minerva flicked her wand and, as the three of them walked away nonchalantly, they distinctly heard Uncle Vernon bellow like a wounded hippo.

Michael looked back interestedly to see what she had done to him. Minerva was looking straight ahead, but Michael could see a tiny smile curving her lips.

"What'd you do to him, Mum?" Michael asked, grinning.

Minerva stopped and burst out laughing. She leaned down close to Michael; her eyelashes tickled his cheek, and whispered in his ear,

"I gave him a pig's tail, dear."

Albus cast a Disillusionment Charm on the three of them as they Apparated to their summer cottage. Just before entering the little cottage, Albus stopped Michael.

"A word to the wise, Mikes. Don't mess with your mother's Scottish temper. It is not something to be reckoned with."

Michael heard his mother's laugh bubble out now like the tinkling sound of fairy bells as she uncast the spell upon them. Michael laughed and followed Albus inside.

He looked toward a brighter summer ahead.

A/N: Okay, this concludes the story! I'm going to write story 2 (summer and second year) soon, but would really appreciate it if you'd review and give me, if possible, any suggestions? Again, thanks for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed the story!


End file.
